


What does sex feel like? pt. 3

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Series: WDSFL [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Porn With Plot, Pre-Series, Underage - Freeform, Weecest, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More plot! More sex! (without actually having sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	What does sex feel like? pt. 3

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, part 3! you guys have been so nice it just makes me so happy posting up new chapters of my stuff.  
> And yes there will most likely be a part 4. (hehe)  
> enjoy!

Sam woke up the next morning in an empty bed. The harsh sun against his eyelids told him it was around ten or eleven. Dean usually woke him up when he slept in but hadn't bothered to for the past two days. He heard a muffled voice coming from the kitchen so he yawned and decided to follow it.

Dean was on the phone, up against the counter with his back to Sam.

"No, we haven't... Yes, sir... Yeah... Okay, I will... Okay." Dean clicked the phone off and slammed it against the counter a little too hard. It made Sam jump. Dean turned and saw Sam standing there. He quickly looked away and pushed past him.

"Dad's not coming home for another week."

Sam spun around, watching Dean walk away. "Why?"

But Dean never answered him.

Sam prepared a bowl of cereal, sat at the table and ate alone.

"Dean?" Sam wandered around the creaky old house but Dean was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until he went out in the yard that he found him, sitting back in an old lawn chair with a pair of headphones over his ears. Sam crept up behind him and plucked the headphones off, stretching them up to his own head. ACDC whined _Back in Black_ through them.

"Sam!" Dean yanked them back, nearly pulling Sam down along with them.

Sam rolled his eyes and walked over to the isolated soccer ball that sat in the middle of the yard. He kicked it up and began bouncing it off his knee. Already the sun was so strong it was causing him to sweat. Montana was so hot this time of year.

"Hey, you wanna play?" Sam asked, blinking the sun from his eyes.

Dean's eyes were closed, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Hey!" He kicked the ball toward Dean and it bounced once before rolling to his feet. Dean started and took his headphones off in a huff.

"What?"

"You wanna play?" Sam repeated.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, right." Put the headphones back on.

Sam walked over to retrieve the ball. Like it was so hard to friggin kick it back to him. It seemed like something was bothering Dean, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the phone call or because of last night or maybe something else entirely. And now he was closing his eyes again. After taking the ball up in his hands, Sam straddled Dean's parted knees and bounced the ball off his chest. Dean's eyes shot open and he shifted in the lawn chair.

"What the hell're you doing?"

"I'm bored. What did Dad say?"  

Dean groaned. "Get off me."

"He said _get off me_?" Sam teased, bouncing the ball off his chest playfully again.

"Im serious, Sam. C'mon." Dean started to get up then, so Sam didn't really have a choice. He didn't know why he was being such a killjoy, but it was starting to get annoying.

Dean left the headphones and Discman in the chair in his wake and started for the house.

 

Sam decided to kick the ball around for a bit outside, giving his brother some space to sort out whatever was going on in that head of his. All he could think of was how he hoped Dean wasn't regretting what they did last night or something dumb like that. Because it was probably one of the best nights Sam ever had. Dean's fingers... His tongue... Sam had never felt anything like that before.

All too quickly the sky got really dark, black clouds rolling in. Sam blinked up at them just before it began pouring on him, and in a matter of seconds he was drenched. He left the ball and ran inside.

Dean was on the couch, watching a black and white film. Sam stood there in the back doorway, his hair dripping in front of his eyes. Dean didn't even turn.

"It's raining really hard," Sam said matter-of-factly, catching his breath.

"Yeah?" Dean said, his tone completely apathetic.

Sam flopped on the couch next to Dean. He glanced over at him, but Dean just kept watching the film. Okay, this was starting to get really aggravating.

"D, are you okay?" Sam asked finally.

Dean eyed him briefly but didn't say anything, so Sam reached over and switched the TV off with the remote.

"Hey, I was watching that."

"No you weren't."

It was so dark in the living room now without the glow of the TV or any sun whatsoever. The sound of rain tapping at the glass repeatedly filled the otherwise silent air.

Dean sighed and let his head fall back against the couch.

Sam poked his shoulder gently.

"Sam, what if Dad finds out what we did?"

Sam's brows wrinkled up. "Is that what you're upset about?"

Dean's eyes fell shut.

"He's not going to."

"He'll kill me."

"He's not going to," Sam repeated.

"You know what he told me on the phone?" Dean turned to him and Sam saw the strain behind his eyes. "Told me to take care of you."

Sam swallowed. "You are."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah. _Taking care of you_ , all right," he said sarcastically.

Sam didn't know what to say. He was a little scared but he wasn't sure why. It was probably because he rarely saw Dean get this bothered by something. And if Dean was worrying over it, it must be pretty serious.

Sam walked his fingers up Dean's bicep to his shoulder. And when Dean smiled and shut his eyes again Sam relaxed a little.

 

He couldn't even remember falling asleep, but Sam awoke with a start when the thing he was leaning on shifted and got up. The TV was on again but barely audible over the sound of the rain still rapping against the glass and roof. Rain made him so drowsy.

"Hey, Tiger," Dean slumped back down in the couch, a cold beer in his hand. "You're lucky it's raining. Would've been out there shooting some rounds, working on your aim." The bottle made a hiss as Dean twisted the cap off.

Sam adjusted himself on the couch, eyeing the grey sky outside the window. "It's a wonder we still have power."

Sam turned back and then watched Dean take a swig of beer from the bottle. "Can I have a sip?"

"Yeah, right," Dean said before swallowing. "Dad doesn't even want _me_ drinking the stuff. I have to replace them before he gets back. What're you doing?"

Sam was giving him his best puffy-lipped pout. He knew Dean got so annoyed when he did that that he usually gave in.

Dean rolled his eyes and handed him the bottle. " _One_ sip."

 

xxx

 

It was precisely seventeen sips later that Dean got up to get another beer and let Sam keep that one.

And it was precisely two empty bottles later that the power went out and they were left television-less and in complete darkness. That was when the thunder started.

"Crap," Dean cursed, getting up and going into the kitchen. Sam could hear him rustling through the cabinets. He came back and crouched down by the mantel next to the TV stand, then ignited a fire in the fireplace.

"I know we don't really need any more heat, but I'd rather not sit in complete darkness," he said, then gestured toward the empty bottles on the little table. "Want another?"

Sam nodded enthusiastically. He was starting to enjoy the buzzing sensation the beer was giving his nerves. And he was enjoying even more the fact that Dean was trusting him with it. After all, Sam had made a reasonable argument: Dean was drinking it and he wasn't old enough, so why shouldn't Sam be allowed to as well? And it wasn't like they were going anywhere.

 

xxx

 

Since there wasn't much to do without any electricity, they somehow wound up sitting on either end of the couch leaning against the opposite armrests with a deck of cards in the middle.

Dean knew he shouldn't have let Sammy have that beer, because now he was all over the place and giggling at everything when Dean was trying to instruct him how to play Crazy Eights. Still, that didn't mean it wasn't the tiniest bit amusing to watch his little brother like that.

And it seemed like Sam was enjoying himself. With Dad gone, he was free to have fun and fool around. They both were.

"So, see? I'm placing the four down because that card's a four. Get it?" Dean showed him.

"Yeah yeah, I get it. But it doesn't have to be the same suit, right?" Sam actually concentrated on his cards, dramatically furrowing his brow and holding them excessively close to his face.

"Right."

Sam contemplated his hand a little too long, but then quickly shot one down on top of Dean's. "Hah! Pick up two!"

The card was a two of clubs, the same suit his four had been. _Damn it_.

 

The power came back on another two bottles later but neither of them cared. The cards were entertainment enough. They didn't even bother turning any additional lights on. But Dean was happy that he got to play his new album ( _Styx - Greatest Hits Part 2_ ) on the CD player Dad had purchased recently.

Sam was kicking his ass at a game he only just learned, as usual, and was rubbing it in his face each time he discarded his last card.

"Okay, next game I win, we get to turn this crap off and play _real_ music," Sam wagered.

"Crap?" Dean repeated incredulously. No way any brother of his was insulting Mr. Roboto.

But Sam just laughed, amused at the look on Dean's face. "You bet."

"Enough beer for you. Your hearing's going."

"Come on! What, you afraid you're gonna lose, _again_?"

"I'm not listening to Alanis Morissette, sorry."

"Shut _up!_ " Sam reached across the couch and shoved him.

"Okay, okay, fine. But if I win, you have to apologize to Dennis DeYoung."

"Okay," Sam giggled.

"You're going down, brother."

 

Unfortunately, Dean was defeated (that made three out of four now), and Sam, after an exaggeratedly slow turn of his card, leapt up and prodded at Dean, exclaiming things like "I won!" And "I told you so!" Dean even thought he heard a "you suck!"

Dean batted Sam away. "Alright, alright, go play your stupid music."

Sam disappeared into their room for a few minutes but then returned carrying a disk in a clear case.

"Where'd you get that?" Dean asked, because he didn't seem to recall Sam purchasing any CDs lately.

"I made it," Sam said, placing it carefully in the player. "You remember when I went over to my friend Marco's?"

"That short kid with the glasses?"

"Yeah. His dad's got this whole program installed on his computer."

Dean leaned back and made an impressed face before Sam turned. Dean was curious to see what Sammy called "real music." Come to think of it, he never even talked about the music he liked with Dean. Dean always just thought it was because he probably liked really embarrassing songs that he thought Dean would laugh at. Which wouldn't have been entirely wrong.

Then Sam was smiling anxiously as he pressed play.

The sound of two harmonious violins whined out of the speakers, and as Sam walked over to the couch again more joined in to create a kind of shaky melody. High ones, low ones, ones that didn't know what they were doing.

"You're such a _girl_!" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. _Classical?!_ Okay, now _that_ he was not expecting.

Sam frowned. "And _you're_ a dick. Mozart's a _genius._ "

"Oh yeah? How is he a genius?" Dean was clearly pushing Sam's buttons now for the hell of it, but come on. _Classical?_

And then Sam went on to tell him (with his nose upturned) about how Mozart wasn't only a musical genius, he was also a mathematic genius and blah blah blah. Whatever, when Sam started talking about sonatas and "the Golden Ratio," Dean zoned out.

"I knew you would be like this." Sam said, folding his arms. "You're such a _jerk._ " And then, when Dean offered him a stack of eight cards: "no, I don't want to play anymore."

"Stop being a baby, take the cards."

"I'm not a baby, _you're_ the baby."

Dean's face softened and he smiled a little. "Alright, I'm sorry, okay?"

"You're not."

"Yes, I really am. Sam, look at me," Dean was giving _him_ the pouty face this time, his outstretched hand waving the cards at him. "This is me apologizing."

 

xxx

 

They played all night. Dean taught Sam a few other games. He liked all of them. They had lost track of the time a while ago. It must've been well past midnight, but neither of them cared.

And Dean would never admit this out loud, especially not to Sam, but the classical music wasn't _too_ yawn-inducing. Actually at times — like now, for instance — it seemed to perfectly compliment the crackle of the logs on the fire and the shadows dancing around the room. And especially the orange light that glimmered over Sam's cheekbone and nose. Yeah. Especially that. It was... Mesmerizing. Quite, dare he say it, beautiful.

"What?" Sam asked softly.

Dean hadn't even realized he had been staring. He shook his head. "Nothing." Damn this music. Dean tried to blink out of the haze. It didn't work. He was still lost in it. And now Sam was staring at him through his heavy-lidded hazels, which wasn't helping either.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Sam asked, or so Dean thought. It was spoken so gently it could have very well been a part of the song that was playing.

Dean looked up, and even as he shook his head he was watching Sam's lips, remembering how sweet they tasted.

The music began to swell as Sam discarded his cards and moved to close the space between them. His movements were slow, fluid. Hesitant yet confident all at the same time. A few cards fell to the ground as Sam's knee pressed down on the couch. He seemed to be moving _with_ the violins, which were now ascending to a feverish pitch and were inducing a tightness in Dean's stomach.

Sam's hands were on his knees now, sliding up them as he came closer, and Dean could feel a huge lump forming in his throat, preventing him from swallowing.

One lone violin sung, and as it reached the highest note of the composition, Dean shut his eyes. And then everything went dead silent as he felt Sam's warm lips brushing his own. At first they were still, as were Dean's, like it was finally hitting the two of them that they were starting to actually _need_ this, it wasn't just for fun or practice anymore.

And then Sam pressed in first, his mouth opening against Dean's, and Dean could swear he was melting feeling Sam's wet tongue and tasting that familiar tinge of sweetness that belonged only to him. His lips and skin were so soft Dean was scared to devour them. Sammy slid his mouth around on Dean, making feeble little moans and drawing out breaths through his nose. He was pushing against him and soon Dean was letting himself sink down into the couch as Sam crawled over him. Their bodies pressed into each other, Dean's hands coming up to caress Sam's arms as he leaned in. Sam massaged Dean's mouth with his own and it was so good and Dean really didn't know how or where he learned to kiss like that but he wasn't complaining. He had probably taken some pointers from Dean last night.

His legs were moving around, getting lost in Dean's, and the friction was going straight to Dean's groin. He sucked on Sam's lip and suppressed a deep moan. Sam kept moving, his hips now, and Dean's dick was only getting heavier and desperate under his jeans. He still couldn't believe how hard Sam made him. It was a little ridiculous. It was like he knew _exactly_ how to move to get Dean's blood pumping at a rapid rate.

Everything was happening in slow motion. Dean let his hands slide up Sam's hips, soothing and encouraging, but also because he really wanted to just _feel_ him. He didn't know if it was because of the beer or what, but his world was stirring, spinning, coherent judgement out of whack, all notions of morality abandoned. He wasn't really sure of anything. Not where his mind was, nor what any of this meant, nothing but one thing and that was that this felt _right._ Like, okay, he didn't care how lame it sounded, but like it was just another way of expressing their love. It just _fit._ Yeah, definitely the beer talking now.

Sam pulled back a little, so Dean took the opportunity to wipe the little strands of brown hair from his brow with his thumb. Then Sam moved so that he was upright, straddling Dean's hips, his fingers playing with the hem of Dean's shirt tentatively. Dean almost followed, a little disconcerted by the loss of contact, but he quickly realized it was just as satisfying looking at Sam like this: his skin glowing orange, his small nibble at swollen red lips.

"Dean..." His whisper was the only sound in the room but even still it got a little lost in the headiness of the air. "You can make love to me if you want."

Dean caressed his thighs. "I thought that's what we were doing."

Sam came back down so that his face was over Dean's again and Dean felt strands of his hair brush his cheek.

"No," Sam said. "You know... _Make love._ "

Dean retreated a little, trying to read Sam's eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze steady, unblinking.

Dean couldn't find his words. "No, Sam," was all that came out.

"I'd be alright with it if you wanted to..."

"I don't." There was no way. No way he would be the one to take Sam's virginity. He could never be that selfish. Sam didn't know what he wanted. He was still just a kid. A kid who should be thinking about homework and girls, not ...this.

When Dean noticed Sam pull back again with a kind of insulted heaviness behind his eyes, he added "you're too young."

Sam played with Dean's shirt again, his fingers grazing his stomach. "Okay."

Slowly, Sam's hands slid over Dean's stomach, up his chest, and the fabric of his t-shirt began riding up.

Dean let his hands slide up underneath Sammy's shirt, too, feeling his soft skin. His fingers gently rubbed up Sam's hips, his ribs, up to his nipple. Sam moaned at the feel of Dean's thumb pressing in to it and flicking over it a few times.

Sam reached behind himself and took off his own shirt, exposing his thin frame that was often hidden under too-large hand-me-downs. His hips dragged against Dean's, and now Dean could feel that Sam was just as hard as he was underneath his jeans.

Sam's hands wandered around under Dean's shirt and, never breaking eye-contact, Dean removed it. Sam's eyes went to the bronze amulet that rested on his collarbone, and leaning in slightly his fingers caught it, turning it over a few times between them. Dean watched him, watched the shadows descend over his cheeks under feathered lashes, watched his dewy skin flicker with the flames of the fire.

Sam's tentative hands trailed downwards, over Dean's belly button and stopped just at his belt. "Dean..." His fingers ran over the cool metal buckle. "Can I... try something?"

From the look on Sam's face, it didn't seem like his response would have made much of a difference. "What?" He asked anyway.

Sam crouched lower, shifting on the couch so that he was settled lower down, and as his fingers unclasped the buckle and popped open the button of Dean's jeans, it struck him what Sammy wanted to do. _No. Not this._

Dean stopped his hands from going any further. He tried to shake his head, but Sam looked so comfortable with this, so ready that he somehow couldn't bring himself to speak the word _no._ That and having Sam's head, his mouth, so close to his straining dick was shooting off sparks of pleasure throughout his whole body that he couldn't control.

Sam continued, unzipping Dean's zipper and pulling down his boxers painfully slow.

It was almost hard to watch. Dean found himself torn between closing his eyes and watching his every move.

At first, Sam's lips opened on the head of his dick like a kiss and Dean gasped at the feel of it. His hot, wet mouth was so soft, so gentle. Dean's hips jerked involuntarily and Sam's mouth opened on a smile. He licked and suckled at the tip, which was now wet with pre-come and saliva. His fist closed around the base and Dean stifled a groan.

His tongue drew a stripe up the underside, and then immediately after that his whole mouth was closing around him tightly.

Dean couldn't watch anymore. His dick was in his brother's mouth. _His dick was in... Oh... His brother's..._

Sam sucked on the head, his warm mouth gentle and too slow, it was driving Dean crazy. But it was a too-good kind of crazy.

"Fuck... _Sammy._ "

Sam knew exactly how to bring him to the edge so that he was left breathless and straining for more. Dean felt his small mouth going down halfway then back up again, his hand stroking where his mouth wasn't. It was too good. It was nothing like Dean ever felt because it was _Sammy._

He still found it hard to look at him. _Feeling_ it was one thing but _seeing_ it too just made it all more real. Sam was making little noises around his dick that ignited every one of his nerves and left his skin tingling. Dean could feel the hardness of Sam's dick dragging against his leg from the way they were lying. He kept moving, most likely trying to find a position that would allow him to get the friction he needed.

Dean couldn't help it but he was beginning to thrust his hips up into Sam's mouth, his body becoming more and more desperate for release.

And now Sam was grinding his hips into Dean and the couch, and everything was just getting very _hot._

"Sam, Sam," Dean panted out. "I'm gonna —" and then everything built up until he couldn't hold it back anymore. He pulled Sam off of his dick by grabbing a fistful of hair and Sam jacked him as he came. It was painfully slow but that was what made it the best orgasm he ever had in his life. He could actually feel it being wrenched out of him. And he vaguely heard Sam letting out a high-pitched sobbing breath at the same time, so he knew he must have come untouched right there against Dean's leg.

When Dean resurfaced, he blinked his eyes open and looked down at the mess on his stomach. Sam panted against the head of Dean's dick, trying to catch his breath. He was licking at his top lip, which was wet with come and Dean finally released Sam's hair from his fist to help him clean it off with his thumb.

He wanted to apologize. For everything.

Sam rested on Dean's lap, neither of them bothering to move at all. His eyes began to droop, his breaths getting deeper.

"Dean?" Sam asked after a few minutes had passed in complete silence.

"Yeah?"

"Can you ever see yourself getting a girlfriend?"

Dean pondered the question a while before answering. "I don't know." It was the truth. It wasn't that he wasn't interested in girls anymore, it's just that he wasn't really sure about what the future held for him. And it wasn't something he ever dwelled on. "Do you?"

Sam huffed. "Probably not."

Dean watched the shadows on the ceiling for a while. "What if I got married?"

He felt Sam's head shift on his hip to look up at him, his hands coming up to support under his chin.

"Would you be jealous?" He looked down at Sam, who only seemed to be studying him through unreadable eyes.

"Would you be jealous?" He repeated, not really sure why.

Sam didn't answer, only furrowed his brow and got this really serious upset look on his face. He looked like he was five years old and just witnessed a bad man break his toys. Then he settled back down again, resting his head like he didn't know what to say.

Dean loosened and smiled, running his fingers through Sam's hair. "I'm not getting married, Sammy."

Yeah, right, _marriage._ He would never be ready for that kind of commitment. And he didn't know if he ever wanted to be. Because however fucked up shit was now, he knew this was where he belonged. His duty was right here. To his family. To his little brother. "I'll never leave you."

"Good," Sam breathed out tiredly before drifting off.


End file.
